While You Were Away
by introvertedtiger
Summary: Liley. "Again and again I spill my heart out onto sheets of paper and send them to her in hopes that one day....that one day she will finally write back, and let me know that my feelings have crossed the ocean and reached her."
1. Missing You

Warning: If you don't like girlxgirl pairings, then I suggest you leave now. There's nothing here that you will enjoy.

Notes: Well, I took a long break from writing, but I'm back and with new story to boot. This will only be a three part story, the first chapter from Miley's pov, second chapter in Lilly's, and the third chapter will probably be a mix. This story will be done in fairly quickly, and for those of you waiting on my other stories, have no fear, an update shall be upon you soon. ** Also, I'd like to say that I dedicate this story to our men and women in uniform. We all miss you and pray for your safe return.**

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Hannah Montana or any characters associated with the show.

**While You Were Away  
**

"Missing you"

"_Now everyone please put your hands together for the one and only! HANNAH MONTANA!_"

I feel the familiar buzz of nervousness and excitement as the roar of the crowd rocked the large stadium. With a wide smile on my lips and a skip in my step, I make my appearance and am once again engulfed and consumed in the overwhelming rush of my stardom. Like a drug, it courses through my veins, bringing me to ever higher heights of exhilaration. It's almost like a dream, as if I'm not really dancing around this stage, singing my heart out.

And just like a drug, it eventually wears off as I take my final bow and trot off stage. The rush ebbs away and the hazy, dream like fog disappears. The feelings that had been buzzing around in my chest is replaced the dull monotony that is reality.

I say my thank yous to the back stage crew and my band members as I slowly make my way to my dressing room, making sure to spare a few extra moments to except the congratulatory hug from daddy for another well performed concert. As I separate from the grinning man and turn around, for a brief moment I almost expect to be drowned in the scent of vanilla as familiar arms wrap around me, accompanied by a shrill, girly voice gushing excitedly about my performance

Yet it doesn't come. Why should I expect differently when such a thing hasn't happened in almost four years?

Making the effort to finish my rounds of thank yous to the rest of the crew, I finally make it to my dressing room.

My large, flashy, lonely dressing room.

I sigh loudly as I lock the door behind me before dragging my feet over to the large, over stuffed couch. There are flowers and presents littered around my room, some from over zealous fans, others from sponsors and producers looking to keep in my good graces, and some from other celebrities looking to make a friend out of the famous Hannah Montana. I stopped caring about such frivolous things four years ago.

Liberation.

That's what I feel as I pull the blond wig off and toss it aside carelessly, when I pull away the hair net and shake my curly, brunette hair loose. And just like that, I am no longer Hannah Montana. I am Miley Ray Stewart. Yippie.

Collapsing onto the couch, I prop my feet up and sling an arm over my eyes. I figure have a good half an hour to myself before either Roxy or daddy comes to fetch me for the drive back to the hotel where my room awaited me.

My expensive, over decorated, comfortable yet lonely hotel room.

Sometimes I wonder how life ended up this way for me. I don't mean to complain, cause, really, I'm living the American dream, right? At twenty two years old, I've already accomplished more than most people would in a life time. I have multiple albums that have gone platinum, enough money and invested assets that I could retire and live a life of luxury whenever I wanted, and a wonderful fiance that any other girl would kill for.

Speaking of my husband-to-be, I should probably be calling Jake right now to let him know how the concert went and ask how the movie shoot is going over in New Zealand.

....I'll do it later. Maybe tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be out of this funk after a good nights sleep, all though that hasn't happened in four years.

A sigh escapes me. I notice I've been doing this a lot lately. Not sighing, I mean. The internal contemplation of my life. My supposedly perfect, story book esque life. That, and how it all became meaningless to me since that horrible day four years ago.

I can easily remember when it began, when the ever present happiness in my life faded away in the blink of an eye.

It was the summer after my high school graduation. Ah, how happy I was at the time. Filled with the gratification of graduating, the hope of a prosperous future, and the ever present company of my loving family and friends. My, how perfect life was back then.

I thought life would only get better when during a romantic summer night, under the glow of the stars and moon, my high school sweet heart, Jake Ryan, proposed to me and asked me stay with him forever.

I thought it was the perfect ending to my life as an immature teenager, and the perfect starting point to my life into adulthood. How naive I was.

Life is all about balance. So with all the positives, the negatives would come in equal weight. What I didn't imagine, however, was that it would all come in one, devastating blow.

Just days after my engagement was announced to all my family and friends, Lilly Truscott, my best friend and eternal companion, dropped a bombshell on all of us that changed my life from that point on.

The army. She had enlisted in the freaking army. Joined the military when it was well known the country was fighting a bloody war. Worst yet, she hadn't told a soul till after the fact. She had signed up months ago and was just now telling us. She had known for months and hadn't said a word to _me_.

I groan in frustration as I sit up properly on the couch and hunch over, restless hands running through my tangled hair.

I still remember the awful, horrible days that followed Lilly's announcement. I couldn't understand it at the time why she had done such a thing without consulting with anybody, especially _me. _I mean, I'm suppose to be her best friend! The person she could always confide in!

So many feelings had filled me all those years ago when she had stood nervously in front of us during a gathering at my house, and finally confessed what she had done. In front of her dear mother, daddy, Jackson, and I, she came clean and told us what she had been hiding for months. I remember the brief moment of disbelief and denial among us all. Then the crushing realization that she wasn't joking.

Worse yet, she didn't stop there. A second confession. She was shipping out to basic the following day. In less then twenty four hours. God, the silence after she had said that had been unbearible. How could she? That was the lone thought that kept repeating over and over in my head like a broken record as she explained her actions. I don't remember a word she said. All I could think was 'how could she?'. Then...I remember unleashing everything that had been building up inside me...all on Lilly.

I lean back into the couch and rub my face. There were so many actions that I committed that day that I will forever regret.

I regret striding up to her, tears streaming down my face, and slapping her so hard her entire head cracked to the side.

I regret screaming at her till my throat was hoarse, accusing her of being stupid, selfish, and worst of all, being a horrible friend.

I regret slapping her a second time when she dared turned to look at me, pleading for me to understand. God, I remember the pain in her eyes. The pain I had caused. In my anger, I couldn't see it.

When I hit her that second time, everyone finally came to their senses and forcibly pulled me away from Lilly. I remember struggling against daddy's and Jackson's strong hold, harsh words still spewing from my mouth like acid as they dragged me to the back porch. I remember Heather Truscott just standing there in stunned silence, still not entirely processing the situation. I remember Oliver looking torn between helping hold me back and going to Lilly's side.

But more importantly, I remember Lilly.

Lilly had stood there, her face wet with tears as she watched them take me away, hand held to her reddening cheek. I'll always remember how her eyes had looked so sorrowful, so full of remorse and what I'm sure was regret. And the smile. That small, unreadable smile that was on her face. The image was forever burned into my mind. It wasn't until sometime later when I had time to reflect that I realize what that smile had meant.

Unlike me, she had realized that it would be the last time she saw me for a long, long time.

The morning after was the worst morning of my life. In my selfishness, I choice to stay in my room alone, angrily crying and stewing over the great betrayal Lilly had committed. When daddy tried to convince me to come with him and Jackson to see Lilly off at her house, I had foolishly just hissed at him to tell Lilly I hope she came back with a bullet hole in her ass.

My, how daddy had looked at me with so much disappointment in his eyes before he left. After wallowing in my self-pity party for a little longer, I finally realized that I needed to pull myself together, or I wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye to the girl who had stood by my side for as long as I could remember.

My eyes snap open when the cell phone resting on my dressing table began shrilling loudly. I let it ring a few more times before getting up and checking the caller ID. When I see Jake's name on the screen, I just quiet the phone, and return to my position on the couch, closing my eyes as I lean my head back.

Sorry Jakey, I'm a little too busy torturing myself over the past to talk to you right now.

I feel my eyes sting as I recall sprinting out of my house, running desperately for Lilly's house. I remember berating myself for being such an idiot. For forgetting that despite the fact I could never understand why Lilly would do something so reckless as joining the army, she was still my best friend. The person who I loved dearly. Who was like the sister I never had, and so, so much more. In my anger I forgot all that, and I begged God to forgive me, I begged the heavens to at least give me the chance to say goodbye.

I feel my shoulders shake as a small sob escapes me and I let out a shakey, humorless chuckle as I quickly wipe at my eyes. Even after four years....

The devastating feeling that had settled in my gut when I arrived at Lilly's house only to find daddy comforting Lils crying mother while Oliver and Jackson stood by with sorrowful gazes.

The gnawing ache of failure that burned away at my chest.

The stabbing feeling of dark finality that drove through my heart.

Even after four years, those feelings had never left, just buried away to be brought out again whenever I was alone and allowed to wallow in my misery.

I still remember it, the day Lilly left and because of my stupid, selfish feelings, I didn't even get to say goodbye. I can still recall the feeling of the rough asphalt when I fell to me knees in disbelief, the denial that I had failed to make it in time struggling to take me over. The feel of arms being wrapped around me, as Oliver whispered words of comfort. It was only after hearing his words did I realized I was crying my heart out, my very soul begging that it wasn't so.

And...that was it. That was the day Lillian Truscott walked out of my life, and being the awful, hell-destined idiot that I was, I didn't even say goodbye.

That....That was the _real_ day my happy go lucky days ended as an immature teenager. Now that Lilly was no longer there to offer her unending support and love, I was forced to grow up. Painfully and tearfully, I did just that.

Slowly, but surely, life continued on without her. I eventually came out of my depression and tried my hardest to focus on the positives in my life, mainly my ever growing career, my family, and of course, my future with Jake.....

Who am I kidding, the last four years have basically been a living hell. My life came to a screeching halt four years ago and hasn't budged since. Hannah will continue to become more popular, the money will continue to come in greater upon greater amounts, my family and friends will continue to age and move on with their lives, and Jake...well, that was something else entirely. But me?

I, Miley Ray Stewart, have been at a complete stand still for four years. I felt like time froze the day Lilly left and will only resume once she returned. I pass the time through my life as Hannah and Jake provides me a way to waste a few hours here and there, but when I really think about it, I've done nothing to move my life forward these last few years.

I sigh as I rub my face again. I'm sure Lilly would be disappointed in how I was acting.

Lilly wrote occasionally to her mouther, about once every four months, and in turn Heather would keep us updated on where Lilly was being stationed at if we ever wanted to write to her.

Lets see, by now I believed I've sent her about.....two hundred letters, each at least five pages in length, give or take a few. Every Saturday monring, the mornings that should have consisted Lilly and I hitting the beach to soak up the morning rays, I sit alone at my desk in my dark room and I unload the feelings that had been festering in me during that week onto pieces of paper before sending them off to my dearest friend.

And in return, I've gotten a total of zero replies. Not that I'm surprised. I wouldn't blame Lilly if she just took a glance at the sender and tore up my letters without ever reading them after the way I treated her the last time she saw me. The things I said to her...there's no way I should expect forgiveness, even after all these years.

But...I can't help but hope. Hope that she'll read at least one of my letters. Cause every letter I sent out is filled with nothing but my regrets for what I did and my desperate pleads for Lilly to forgive me. How I loved her like she was the other half of my soul, and how I prayed to God for her safety and well being every night before I go to bed. I write how it felt like the world has lost all of it's colors since the day she left, and how I still get choked up when I realize the first number I call when something eventful happens is still hers and how I struggle not to cry when I listen to her voice mail.

I write to her to express what I feel for her, to make her realize that despite my words on that dark, unforgivable day, she was still my most precious person, the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last when I fall asleep.

I write nothing of the daily events of my life, nothing about my impending marriage or of Hannah's success and fame. I write nothing about my supposedly perfect life.

I only write about Lilly, for Lilly, to Lilly....I write of what ifs and should of and could of. Again and again I spill my heart out onto sheets of paper and send them to her in hopes that one day....that one day she will finally write back, and let me know that my feelings have crossed the ocean and reached her.

I jump a little when there's a knock at my dressing room door.

"Ready to go bud?" My daddy's voice is slightly dampened due to the wooden barrier between us.

"Yeah, give me a minute." I wince a little at the croak in my voice.

A beat of silence passes.

"....You alright honey?"

"Yeah, just...you know, a little tired," I lie as I walk up to my mirror, freshing up so it didn't look like hadn't just spent the last half hour wallowing in misery.

I know daddy can tell I'm lying, but he lets it go. I tend to lie a lot lately and he gave up a long time ago trying to pry information out of me.

The ride back is silent, and I ignore yet another call from Jake as well. Since the day Lilly left, my relationship with Jake lost a lot of its appeal. I mean, I love him and he's a great guy, but....

I no longer have Lilly to run to when Jake does something stupid, or when he does something sweet and I need someone to gush to. Jake doesn't inspire me to embark on spontaneous adventures and he trotts me around like I'm his trophy. When I really think about it, having Lilly by my side had made being with Jake so much more enjoyable. Cause when I'm not with Jake, I was with Lilly. And when I was with Lilly, the world was a better place. But now, after four years of just Jake....

I still haven't told anybody yet, but I'm breaking the wedding off with Jake. In fact, I'm planning to do it the moment he returns from his movie shoot. Nobody deserves to find out their fiance no longer wants to marry them over the phone.

I still love the guy, and I know I must be an idiot to give him up, but I know it wouldn't be fair to him if I stayed. Cause he had confessed he couldn't imagine life without me in it. I couldn't say the same, and I often find my self wishing that if only it had been Jake who was the one off in the military and Lilly had stayed......

I'm pretty sure when I break the news to him it wont be too much of a shock. A growing part of me is pretty sure that Jake is well of aware of my dwindling feelings for him, the biggest clue being that I've put off our wedding for four years now.

The first year was because...well, after Lilly left I wasn't too pleasant to be around.

The second year I put off when I went on a non-stop Hannah tour around the world, much to the pleasure of the producers and industry executives, but to the detriment of those close to me. I had been trying to combat my depression by burying myself in Hannah, constantly drowning myself in her life. But I soon realized that without Lola, even Hannah wasn't immune to the constant feeling of loneliness that was threatening to consume me at the time.

The third year we delayed the wedding when I relapsed into another major depression. During that year, the United States had begun suffering from a series of offensive attacks in the area where Lilly was stationed, and the casualties that had resulted had been staggering. Week after week, month after month, there had been new names of heroic soldiers who gave their lives for their country. I had become so depressed and withdrawn during that time as more and more casualties mounted, that daddy had been contemplating having me hospitalized. God, the nightmares that I had during that time were horrid as I imagined what Lilly must have been going through. It was only after the offensive had been thwarted and Heather had let everyone know that Lilly was okay that I came out of my depressed state.

Over a year has passed since then, and once again my wedding is approaching.

Except this time when I talk to Jake about it, it'll be the last time.

I smile and say goodnight to daddy as I close my hotel room door, and slowly make my way to the bathroom, stripping away my clothes along the way.

Such feelings as wishing Jake and Lilly could switch places sometimes brought about a lot of questions during the four long years that Lilly has been gone, especially when there were times it wasn't just Jake who I imagined replacing with Lilly. Jackson, daddy, Oliver, Heather.... nobody was exempt from my wondering fantasy if it meant putting my dear friend back at my side.

What is Lilly to me? If she was just my best friend, then why? Why do these feelings I have in her absence feel so intense?

Do I love her just as my best friend?

I ponder the questions, yet I never answer them. Maybe because I already know the answers. To me, Lilly was never just a best friend. She was something that I could never define, but never needed to. What I do know is that I love her like nobody else and would give anything to have her back.

Naked, I walk towards the large bathroom, not bothering to glance at the untouched television. I haven't sat down and enjoyed a good television numbing session in over a year since that awful depression I went through last year, mainly because now whenever I come across some news report from where Lilly is stationed or some other part of the world the United States army was deployed in, I would feel a cold hand grip my heart and squeeze till I had to turn off the tv. News papers, online articles, hell, even political gossip during practice sessions for Hannah. I didn't want to be around any of it. I'm sure the people around me are noticing my more reclusive nature. I would much rather just laze around at home reading a good book or break out the guitar and escape into another world, where I don't have to think of the possibility of Lilly coming back in a coffin..

A hot shower later, I dry my hair as I walk over to the dresser. The quietness of the hotel room dampens my mood slightly, but I try my best to ignore it. I miss the days when Lilly and I would goof of in hotel rooms like this after concerts into the wee hours of the night. I miss how we would sneak out sometimes and enjoy a night out in whatever town we were in. I miss how we would always share a bed together, always wrestling for who got the most pillows. I miss how I could just reach across the bed in the middle of the night with my hand or foot and touch her, and immediately be filled with the calm and peacefulness of her presence that would allow me to fall asleep easily. God, how I missed her.

After putting on my pajamas, I kneel before my bed and say my usual prayer. I make sure to say a quick prayer for for my family and friends. Then I devote the grand majority of it for Lilly. I pray for her safety, for her to come back home, and I pray for her to return to my life.

And with bated breath, I can only wait and pray that the day will come soon.

Climbing into the large, cold bed, I do my best to make myself comfortable, taking up only one half of the bed and keeping my back turned to the other side. I stare at the alarm clock on the bedside table and count of fifteen minutes before falling into a restless slumber, hoping that at the very least, God would grace me with peaceful dreams of Lilly.

Nowadays, dreams are the only thing I have left of her.

_**to be continued....**_

**AN: Been a while since I wrote drama/angst. I find that it's usually easier to write in the first person, so this story came along fairly quickly. Once again, this story was written with our family and friends who are in the military in mind. The best thing we can do for them is to never forget what it feels like to be separated from them so we cherish them that much more. Anyways, let me know what you think. Review please!  
**


	2. Coming Home

If you don't like girlxgirl pairings, then I suggest you leave now. There's nothing here that you will enjoy.

Notes: Thanks for the great reviews, I loved reading everyone of them. Here's the second to last chapter. I should note that I have no personal experience in how people change after serving in the military during , so sorry if I'm offending any veterans out there. With that said, please enjoy.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Hannah Montana or any characters associated with the show.

**While You Were Away  
**

"Coming Home"

It's funny how fast six years can pass.

That's what I think as I sit in the almost completely empty Baghdad airport in Iraq. Around me are littered a few other soldiers who are returning to the United States for various reasons, some good and some not so good.

I make sure not to look at the young man with two stumps for legs, sitting in a wheel chair as he stared blankly out the window. I've learned over the years that the disabled soldiers hate it when people stare.

I've been in this airport for almost an hour now due to there being a flight delay, but I can wait. Patience is a virtue I learned very quickly.

My first job in the army was as a driver for supply caravans. As a soldier manning the deadly roads of a war torn country, one must always remember to keep their cool. Antsy soldiers who got impatient usally found themselves in deep shit.

I shift a bit in the hard plastic seat, adjusting the large open folder in my lap as I try to get more comfortable.

Looking down at the folder, which was filled hundreds of upon hundreds of letters laminated in plastic, I couldn't help but let the small, warm smile cross my face. Such smiles have been rare for me the last six years.

Miley.

Just thinking the name brought so many feelings to the forefront.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I flip through back to the very first page to begin from the beginning. I've lost count the number of times I've read through them. Enough that eventually I had to get them laminated to protect the letters after they became frail from being handled and read so many times.

The first letter had came not long after I was stationed at my first post in Iraq. Thinking back to all those years ago, it was almost impossible to remember the still innocent girl I had once been.

When the first letter had arrived, I was still in the dumps about the whole mess with Miles. I mean, I couldn't really blame her at the time for how she reacted. Had she pulled the same thing on me, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been any better. It was foolish of me to wish she could have understood right then and there why I hadn't told anybody about enlisting in the military. How could she have known it was something that had been on my since our senior year? I remember how it all began.

During our final year at Sea View High School Oliver had been talking nonstop about UCLA where he was planning on attending, Miley had been engrossed in her blossoming romance with Jake and her Hannah alter ego, and I...well, I was at a standstill. I knew I wasn't going to colllege, I just knew it. If I could barely stand to sit through a fifty minute class in high school and struggled with just about every test and assignment I was given, then I would be eaten alive in college. So what was left after high school?

I knew that if I just asked Miles, she would be more than willing to set me up with a job doing some kind of Hannah business, but I could never ask her of such a thing. I would rather rot in an alley then mooch off my best friend's hard work. For a while I thought about finding a job somewhere, but with the way the job market was looking, it was next to impossible to find one without any experience. And working sixty hours a week at minimum pay wasn't very appealing.

The thought of just bumming off my parents till I found something worthwhile came across only once before being thoroughly dismissed. I was already at a standstill in life, and I needed to find something that would start me off running right out of high school. Then, one fateful day, an army recruiter visited our school. I remember Oliver and Miley both barely even acknowledging the fact that the uniformed woman was even on campus.

Unlike them, I was enraptured.

The army recruiter was about half a foot taller than I was, and looked to be in about her mid forties. She had a presence about her that had awed me and every time I saw her in the hallways, I couldn't help but stare. I think it was how she held herself, how all the teachers and even the most rancorous of the students cowed beneath her intense eyes. Eyes that spoke of experiences regular civilians would never be able to comprehend. She carried herself with pride, and walked with purpose. I would look at her and see traits in her that I lacked severly. Discipline, pride, confidence, bravery...

I wanted to be like her.

That was the thought that repeated over and over inside of my head while Miley and Oliver barely spared her a glance during the brief few days she was there. Had they paid a little more attention to me during the week the recruiter was there, they might have caught wind of what I was planning to do

One day, instead of going to lunch with Miles and Oliver, I sought out the army recruiter.

The hour I spent talking with her changed my life forever. Her strong words, her confident gaze, her stone hard posture. When I think back on it, I'm pretty sure I must have been crushing hardcore on her. I certainly was blushing pretty hard the entire time I was talking to her. But those are feelings I would come to understand much, much later. After our conversation, I had been completely sold on the idea of enlisting. The only problem then was my mom and....Miley.

I finish reading the first letter Miley had sent, taking in a deep breath as I willed away the stinging sensation in my eyes. So full of pain and remorse, it had been almost unbearable reading through it the very first time.

I remember the day I told everyone. I remember the day I told her. Originally, I was planning on only telling mom and then just leaving without telling everyone else. I was prepared to embark on my new life and leave the old Lilly behind. Oliver and Miley had bright futures ahead of them, and I couldn't bare telling them I wouldn't be there for a good chunk of it. But then....

The day Miley announced her engagement completely floored me. I chuckle as I recall standing slack jawed in Miley's kitchen, staring bug eyed at my blushing friend and a very proud looking Jake. Mr. Stewart had looked torn between being happy for his little girl and murdering Jake on the spot. And Olly was, well, was Oliver. He fainted like the doughnut he was.

Gosh, Miley had looked so happy. Part of me was devastated because no matter what she said, I was losing my best friend. Cause it wasn't my crazy best friend Miley Ray Stewart that had stood there blushing next to her future husband; it was a grown, mature, beautiful woman name Miley Ray Stewart, soon to be Stewart-Ryan. She had grown up before my eyes and it was then and there that I was positive that I made the correct choice to enlist in the military. My best friend was leaving behind her immature teenage life, and I was determined to do the same no matter the cost.

I remember the hugs and the happy tears, how we celebrated late into the night. I remember the sleep over that we had, how I had held Miley so tightly while she slept, trying not to cry because I knew I would soon have to say goodbye. The morning after was the last time I ever got to hold my best friend in my arms when I hugged her goodbye before I made my way home.

The few days following that announcement Miley had been so busy letting Jake smother and spoil her with his feelings, that before I knew it, it was the day before I was leaving and the only contact I had with Miley lately was our daily talk over the phone before we went to bed.

I mean it when I said I was just going to tell my mom, but....God, I just wanted to have one more hug from my friend. One last time to say goodbye to everybody. And it was then I realized how selfish I had been. Just so I could avoid dealing with the feelings of my friends and family, I had been planning to suddenly abandon them without saying a word. I had wanted it my way and I had been about to hurt everybody just to get it.

So I decided to come clean, the consequences be damned. Standing in front of everybody, palms sweating, heart in my throat. Staring into their curious eyes, unaware of the bomb I was going to drop on them. Then.... I did it.

I spilled the beans.

Man, that had been the most difficult thing I had ever done up to that point.

First came the relief from unloading my secret. It had felt like a weight had been lifted of my shoulders. Then came the silence. That horrible, horrible silence. What little relief I had gained was swept away and replaced with dread when it became apparent I was in for a good tongue thrashing. And once my words had sunk in, then came the expected backlash. Yet no matter how hard I tried to steel myself for it, the pain that followed would forever be seared into my mind. Seeing the varied looks of shock and disbelief from everyone was hard enough, but it was Miley who doled out the heavy blows, figuratively and literlaly.

The sight of Miley's stunned face, the tears that started to trail down her face, then the accusing eyes...

Her anger....

The words that spilled from her mouth burned my like molten lava, leaving trails in my soul that will forever be scarred. It wasn't the first or second time she slapped me that hurt the most. It was the thought that I was the reason behind her turmoil. That I had shattered our sacred trust. That I was watching our eternal friendship burn before my very eyes.

Of all the things she screamed, I can only clearly remember her calling me a bad friend. The accusation had been like a nuke to my very being. And yet... I completely agreed with her. I was a horrbile friend to do such a thing to her.

So the only thing I could do was watch and smile sadly as she was pulled away, smile and hope that come tomorrow morning, she would at least think me worthy enough of a goodbye. But I knew then that it would be the final time I would see her, and it killed me to think the last memory of Miley I would have would be of her sorrowful tears and her angry words.

That night, I remember hugging Oliver and Jackson goodbye, feeling worse the second when I realize they were shedding tears over me.

That night, I remember staring sorrowfully at the open porch door, loud harsh words being exchanged outside betweeen an incensed Miles and her dad.

That night, I held my mom's hand on the drive home as she held back her tears and told me she was proud of me for making such a brave decision.

That night...I collapsed into my bed and cried the hardest I ever cried in my life as I lamented my cruel actions.

Because I was too much of a coward to tell everyone sooner, I had hurt everybody I ever cared about deeply in one fell swoop. I never knew the true meaning of self loathing till that night.

The next morning I had been numb. I can't even remember hugging everyone goodbye. Miley hadn't come. And that was fine. After what I did to her, I deserved such. And for about a month after, I remained numb. Basic training had been a complete blur to me. I would allow my mind to go blank as I numbly followed the orders of the drill sergeant and use the exhaustion from the day to fall into a dreamless sleep. I can barely remember those grueling weeks, and remained in that zombie like state for while.

That was until I received the very first letter from Miley...

I flip the page to another of the letters Miley had sent me about a year ago and I feel my cheeks flush a bit. I was aware of the fact that when she wanted to, Miley could write words that could move the hardest of souls. But until that first letter arrived, such words had never been directed at me. The feelings she had tried to convey....Miles words had breathed in new life into my desolated soul. My eyes linger on a particular paragraph. I've already come to the decision that it's my favorite passage of all her letters.

_I love and adore you, my precious, sweet Lilly. __ I yearn to hold you and once again fill my soul with the happiness that only you can bring. The ache that devours me, the desire to have my most important person with me once again...I dream of you night after night and wake up feeling empty again and again, wishing fervently that if only I could dream of you forever and never wake up. When I realize I must go through another day without you, I feel a deep pain that can only be described as unbearable. My mind and heart thinks of you and only you, my lovely Lilly. The coldest of lakes and the frozen tundra itself can't even begin to soothe the ache that burns in me eternally for you. My dearest, precious friend, how can I ever convey to you the unfillable void that was left by you? How can I make you understand just how much I would give to hold you once again? I am incomplete and broken, and shall remain so till you return. I love you Lilly, with every fiber of my being....Return home safely, my sweet Lilly, and complete me once again...Come back and I shall devote the rest of my life to showing you just how much I truly love you..._

I clear my throat as I loosen my collar a little. Christ, the things her words did to me. I spent many a sleepless night reading the same letters over and over again, memorizing every line, every letter. I can hardly believe that she's been writing to me nonstop for six years, especially since I've never written her back once. Because....because well...

The first letter I had received hit me so hard, that I didn't quite know how to respond to it. It had been so moving, so impactful, that I wanted my letter to her to be perfect. And before I could put pen to paper, I received another letter from her, just as moving and emotional.

I shake my head amusedly as I remember how I had been in such a hurry to respond back. She had sent me two letters and I was desperate to write at least one back. But then she had sent another one, then another, and another, and another... I was swept away and drowned in Miley's flowing words of love and devotion. Of her pain and sorrow. Of how she prayed for me and begged me to come home safe.

I stopped trying to write back, and became contented with spending every second of free time I had to reading her words over and over again, absorbing ever ounce of love that her letters radiated. There was a dark part of me that relished in the desperation Miley's letters implied. I can't deny the fact that I constantly found myself relishing in the thought that my the friend who had spurned me during our last meeting was now worshiping my very existence with words that would impress the greatest of poets.

Before I knew it, somewhere along the way the image I had of Miley had taken a drastic turn. She had once been the crazy teenager who had been my best friend, and then the grown woman who was engaged to Jake Ryan, and now...

Hmm, I had almost forgotten about Mr. Ryan...

I smirk as I flip to the letter I received about two years ago in which just briefly, Miley noted she was no longer engaged. No reasons were given, no story was told. The letter just began with a brief sentence:

_Jake and I decided to go our separate ways._

And as far as Jake and their engagement, that was it. The rest of the letter had been Miley's usual poetics, filled with her intense feelings and musings. I can't help but wonder what she was thinking when she broke it off with Mr. Perfect. Six years ago, my best friend was totally convinced Jake was the one.

I sigh softly at the thought. Best friend....I wonder if that's what she is to me now. What I am to her. In all honesty, when I left Malibu I was positive that I would lose my role as best friend when it came to Miley. At most, I thought we could still be friends who occasionally saw each other when I finished my service.

But now....

I close my eyes and slouch a bit in my seat as I chew my bottom lip thoughtfully.

I want to say we're still best friends, but her letters tell me a different story.

It's like we're floating in purgatory in between two states of being. The day I told her about my enlistment, the bond between us was shattered. And from those shatters, the bond was slowly rebuilt with every letter that Miley sent. But it wasn't the same. What was built from those shattered pieces glued together by Mileys words of love and sorrow was something vastly different. On one end is the familiarity of years of friendship and sisterhood, and on the other end is something so intense it scares me. Whenever I try to think of that other end, I get anxious and unsure, especially when I think about what feelings must be coursing through Miley for her to be able to write such beautiful words.

For six years she continuously wrote me letters, each one more moving then the next, expressing feelings so intense and potent that to say we were just mere best friends didn't seem to fit. I remember letting one of my comrades read one of the letters after a lot of begging and whining. She had asked me if Mileywas the love that I had left behind like so many other soldiers.

I pondered on that question for awhile, but I never answered it. Maybe because I didn't know the answer. Maybe because the answer was already laid in front of my in the form of hundreds of pages of words, each one devoted to me.

I chew on my bottom lip as I slowly flip through the pages, my eyes tracing Miley's flowing script. I feel my heart flutter at the thought that soon I would be reunited with person who had written me such priceless letters of affection. Just sitting here waiting is killing me inside, but I'm use to it. I've done a lot of waiting over the years.

God, how I waited in anticipation day after day for the next letter to come. My heart would pound in my chest and my hands would tremble whenever a new letter would be handed to me. I would retreat to the most secluded place I could find and allow myself a few blissful moments to swim in the feelings that traveled thousands of miles to reach me. And the thought that she kept writing letter after letter with the looming thought that a response from me was most likely never to come moved me in ways nobody could understand.

How ironic that the very first letter I sent back in response would be my last.

A simple postcard that I sent first class to Malibu, California for one Miley Ray Stewart that said simply:

_Miley, _

_May 5, __LAX: 12:35pm, Terminal 5, Gate 58._

_Mind picking me up?_

_-Lilly_

_p.s. Don't tell mom, I want to surprise her :)_

I grin to myself as I close the worn folder in my lap and lean back into my seat, turning my head to watch the planes be taxied in and out. Man, what would I have given to be able to see the look on her face when she read those words.

I guess it was a bit cruel of me to write a letter that revealed non of what I feel for her, of how I missed her constantly and how I loved her so, so much. But then again I've never been good at writing. Hell, the only reason I passed composition class in high school was because of Miley and Oliver.

Instead, I've already made the decision that I'll let my actions speak for themselves. And boy I hope Miles has been working out, cause when I see her I'm gonna hug her so tight she wont be able to sit right for a week!

I feel my grin weaken a bit. Well, I'll hug her if she doesn't cringe away from me that is. I'm pretty she'll be in for the shock of her life when she gets a look at me. Spending six years in war torn deserts and mountains can change a person quite a bit.

I wont claim to be as hardened and scarred up as most soldiers. There are men and women who I've fought with all these years who I know will never be able to return to the lives they left behind. I know it sounds selfish, but I'm thankful I'm one of the few to walk away with body and soul intact. Besides a scar here and there on my body, the only immediately noticeable soldier esque mark I have is an old scar running down my bottom lip slightly to the left side that I received from the butt of a gun of an enemy that got just a little too close for comfort and the small scar running across the bridge of my nose...

Okay, so it's freakin' huge. It runs all the way from my right cheek, over my nose, and ends on my left cheek. I got that little beauty from a flying piece of shrapnel after a supply truck was hit by a rocket propelled grenade. We were so entrenched during that battle, that by the time I managed to get my injury examined by a doctor, the thing had already started the healing process leading to inevitable scarring.

The guys told me it made me look like a total bad ass, which I have mixed feelings about. I like getting the extra respect from the men, but I get anxious when I think what others outside the military would think of me. Would I look to intimidating to approach?

I can only hope that if I smile wide enough, maybe Miley wont notice. Maybe all she'll see is the same girl who had walked out of her life six years ago.

I sigh as I hug the folder to my chest and close my eyes.

I worry about returning to my old life sometimes.

The past six years of my life have been filled with the constant reminder that any day could be my last. Even though I grew accustomed to the constant anxiety that came with being a soldier, letting go of it was hard to imagine. Lazing around watching television, going to the beach just to lay in the sun and surf a little bit, going to the mall just to pass the time, gossiping about boys and celebrities, going to Hannah concerts....

I can't imagine it. No matter how hard I try, I can't visualize returning to that life.

Waking up at the butt crack of dawn to catch a small and unsatisfying breakfast with the members of my unit. Not taking a shower for weeks at a time because there was no running water in the area. Always having my finger on the trigger as we drive through quiet villages and bustling cities, my heart pounding in my ears I wearily eye the locals.

That was the life I lived these last few years. It was hell. I would never have believed that it would be so hard to leave behind till now. Not because I desired it, but because it had been my reality for six long years. And imagining anything different was-

My eyes snap open when I hear the sound of glass shattering. I jump to my feet, and clutching the folder to my chest with one arm, I instinctively reach for my hip for the handgun that's no longer there.

A cursing airport official is crouched to the ground as he cleans up the shattered pieces of glass that was once a glass mug filled with coffee.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding before flopping into my seat, blushing when I noted that the other soldiers in the terminal hadn't reacted in a similar fashion. I run a hand through my shoulder length hair, trying to will my heart to calm down.

As a soldier, I was trained to react on instinct. Those who failed to learn to react on instinct were usually the ones who went home in body bags. Ironic how they spend so much time hammering it into you and expect you to live normally once you return to civilian life.

I relax my hold on the large folder and glance down at it, studying the picture I had taped to the front of it.

It was an old picture of Miley and I sitting under a large oak tree, smiling up at the camera with an arm around each others shoulders, both of us sticking our hands out with two fingers up in the universal peace sign. Oliver had snapped it during a brief trip to the park.

That girl in the picture....I wonder if I can become her again? Or more importantly, do I even want to?

Not really.

Even though I lost the carefree attitude of my youth, I've gained so much more in exchange. I became the woman I desired to be. I feel like I've reached a level of maturity that wouldn't have been possible had I stayed in Malibu. Confidence, power, discipline...these were concepts that I never grasped till I joined the military.

However, I can't help but worry over who exactly it is everyone at home is waiting for. The girl who left Malibu six years ago is gone forever, replaced by a hardened, well seasoned soldier. Will they except such a person?

Will Miley except me?

I suck my teeth and gently knock a knuckle against my forehead.

I really need to stop being so introspective about this. I've been thinking way to much lately since I know longer have to worry whether my rifle is functioning or whether the little kid crossing the street has a bomb hidden under his clothes.

I sigh as I put the large folder back into my sack. Soon, I'll no longer have to ponder about all these things. My feelings for Miley, her feelins for me, our six year stretch of being far apart, returning to the life I left behind...

I smile to myself when I see my plane being taxied up to the terminal.

Soon, all those things will come to a conclusion. Tears will be shed, hugs will be given and received, and questions will be answered. And I'll finally give my response to the hundreds of letters Miley has sent me.

I stand up and sling my sack of my shoulder, a smile still on my face. It doesn't take long for me to fall into my seat on the plane and wait as the other passengers file their way onto the aircraft. I close my eyes and force myself to relax. It's a long flight home so I might as well get some sleep. I take a deep relaxing breath, and say a silent prayer for a safe flight home.

Cause it would suck to die in a fiery plane crash now of all times.

As I feel consciousness start to leave me, I say one more silent prayer.

I pray that when I step off this airplane and into the terminal, the first thing I'll see is Miley's smiling face.

After six years of hell, I prayed that God would at least grant me this one small wish.

**_to be continued..._**

**AN: Well, in my opinion it's not as good as the first chapter, but then again I think that about all my stories. Anyways, the final chapter is next. So let me know what you think so far. Review!!!**


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